#muse: dainsleif

[reallyrandomtj]

Me, wants to develop ships for my Dainsleif: GIB ~

My Dain muse:

“I came at a bad time? I shall take my leave--”

Me, grabs Dain like a squeaky toy: NO. STAY!

I blame TIKTOK for reminding me how attractive he is--

[chococolte]

i made more character bots.... here u guys go

SAGAU Childe

SAGAU Al-Haitham

SAGAU Itto

SAGAU Dainsleif

remember to rate their responses ^_^!!

[witch-hazels-musings]

nepenthe

Warning: slight angst/ much comfort - sfw, domestic (unconditional love), character perspective | sending love to our sad boys 

character x GN reader | anthology

Includes: Childe, Dainsleif, Diluc, Kaeya

Hope.

A dying concept. One withering away slowly, painfully, until nothing but the hollow truth is left behind. Hope is debilitating - so why not let it go?

Childe

Sounds. It’s always sounds that wake him. Soft rattles, distant shouts, blood-wrenching screams he’d wish would let him rest but, alas, he could never escape what destiny kept throwing at him. Childe’s steady, heavy breathing began to ease as he captured several in his lungs. It energized the body that itched to move so he stretched his limbs and arched his back until reality came back into clarity. 

The pillow he held was wet so he pushed it away and let his face fall on the bedsheets below. They smelled familiar, comfortable. So much so that he crawled his way to the source only to find nothing there for him to touch, to pull against him, to wrap his yearning arms around just so he could hear a gentle protest. His brows furrowed and he opened his eyes. 

How come you have left me. I told you not to, didn’t I? 

Pushing up on his arms, he collapsed on bent legs, his bare arm pushing into the mattress as he yawned and shook his head. Tufts of hair slapping about in an un-brushed mess. 

‘Let me help,’ he expected someone to say but none came, and he hated it. He felt an itch, an unease somewhere in his chest that nothing could satisfy. An elongated mirror reflected his displeasure back at him. 

Scanning the room, he searched for answers. A closet left unattended, a desk where he expected to see a figure bent over and working on something he didn’t understand, a hand on a hip as it stood in the doorway, waiting for him to get out of bed already. He found nothing except an unease and a clinging scent that had no owner. 

Frustrated, he crawled out of bed. The floor was warmed only by the sun spilling in through the windows. Even the house itself felt vacant. As he headed for the bedroom door, he heard something that made him pause and, just like a wish he would make as a kid, an angel appeared in his doorway. 

“O-Oh, hello sleepy,” you beamed, your hand filled with two cups of steaming liquid. You passed by him and he smelled it; the thing he was missing. “I’ll place your cup here while you get rea-aye! Childe!” 

He lifted you from the floor not caring that you protested. Like he’d done it countless times, he hoisted you up and over him so he could practically body-slam you onto the unmade bed. His arms closed, secure around your waist while you fought with the sheets to breathe. 

“Childe!” You struggled against him, shock and awe plastered on your very existence. 

“Sleep more.” 

“What do you mean sleep more?” He pushed you forward with powerful legs while his bare and muscular arms pulled you against his chest. Your back felt so comfortable he wondered why he woke up with a pillow instead of you. “Ch-” 

“--n’t call me that.” He mumbled against the back of your neck and draped a leg over your own. “You smell good.” 

He felt you shiver, it made his heart pound, “do I, Ajax?” 

“Yes,” he said with satisfaction in his heart but hunger everywhere else.  

Hope. It holds the lifeline to a life we want to believe in. 

Hope. And it sounds like your name. 

--

Dainsleif 

His back ached so he adjusted. His legs felt tight so he uncrossed them. His hand felt empty so he reached for what should have been there. The panic in his heart rose slowly until his nails dug into the earth, void of what should have touched them. 

Dainsleif opened his eyes against his own better judgement. The sun in the leaves was brighter than he anticipated so he blocked it out with his hand. Birds sung above him, the leaves rustled gently. The world moved on but he felt stuck. 

A quiet keeper with nothing left to keep.

Curiously, he searched for signs of what was lost to him. A life he never imagined, a place unmeant for a being like him. This knowledge he knew but somewhere he refused to listen anymore, and now, now he wish he had. 

Pressure on his arm lingered, the weight of another pushed against him but his side was vacant, ready to be filled. Carefully, he lifted himself from the ground so he could wander, follow, or listen as he needed. The camp before him looked undisturbed. The barrier above him was still holding, the thick canvas rustling in the morning breeze. The fire just out of reach burned as if it had recently been lit, a kettle steaming above it. There were signs, signals. He just had to read them correctly. 

Pacing around the campsite, he noticed a set of footprints and set off in the direction they went. Dain wanted to run, wanted to sprint after them but their trail was so faint her might have missed a turn, a backtrack; one miss-step and he could become even more lost than he already was. 

A splash caught his attention and soon he reached the edge of the tree line that gave view to a babbling riverbed. There you were, standing at its bank with your hand in the stream and body perched on a rock. It appeared you were washing something, perhaps an old shirt that had wandered a journey far more dangerous than he’d ever wish upon it. He thought seeing you there would give him back the ability to breathe, but it didn’t. 

He stepped and you found him. 

“Dain, morning,” you called with a ring in your voice. The one he’d recognize above all else, the one he’d remember until all else faded. His. His one. 

When he drew close enough, he stood above you while you sat on the rock. Your hand wet from the cool river, arm exposed to the sunlight that had already started affecting your skin. He’d block it all out if he could. 

“Hey, I’m almost -- Dain?” He leaned in, his hand flush against the spring-touched stone and he captured what he knew he shouldn’t with lips that had known no other for centuries. 

Hope. It holds the lifeline to a life we want to believe in.

Hope. And it sounds like your name.

--

Diluc 

It took a while for his senses to return. For the pull of sleep to fall away from him like frost on morning leaves. His breathing shifted from steady, slow movements to deliberate ones, ones that filled his ears as if to rouse him more. Diluc could feel it all. The bedsheets beneath him, the silken one against his stomach. His hand as it rose and fell on his bare chest, twitching fingers spurring to life. He adjusted in the down-pillow and became washed in a scent so powerful it opened his eyes. 

He expected to find you there. Resting peacefully at his side. Perhaps you would face him and he could take in your radiance, or you’d have your back to him so he could be gifted with a place for his tender kiss. It was likely you’d already be awake, a book in your hand or document to review. Hair out of place but oh so perfect. He expected to see you, turning to him with a smile he’d recognize and a voice that called his name. You weren’t, and his heart ached because of it. 

Diluc rose from the bed. Strong arms flexing to keep him up-right as he scanned the room in search of something to ease his unsteady nerves. There was nothing except for the lingering knowledge you were once here. 

A shirt draped over the back of a chair. Items you’d picked out in the city strewn across the dresser her gave up trying to keep clear. The bathroom door left ajar but the wafting remnants of shampoo spilled from inside. He rubbed the back of his head, let his hands run across his tired face before they fell in between the legs he’d walk for miles on just to see you one more time. 

The world is still, but he is not. 

Diluc adjusted his shirt; memories of your fingers buttoning it closed, of your hand running down his chest. They made him smile and he shook his head in the mirror at what a man he’d become. The belt around his waist tightened, the engravement on the leather made him pause when his thumb ran over it. A gift from you. Practical, personal, something to carry you with him no matter where he wandered. You were always protecting him, in more ways than one. When he reached for his tie, he flung it around his neck knowing he didn’t need to see to put it on, and made his way down the hall. 

Maid’s bowed in respect, attendants continue on their duties while he searched, meandered; he was lost. 

A gentle melody spilled from the kitchen, drew him in. It was empty save for one soul who reeled him in like a fish accepting they’d been caught. His hands reached for their hips, his chin settled against them and elicited a laugh that filled his heart more than anything ever had.   

“Goodmorning, handsome,” you hummed, head turning to press a kiss to his lonely cheek. He replied with one of his own to your upper shoulder. “I made coffee, want some?” 

“In a minute,” Diluc spun you to face him, let his forehead rest against your own, breathed in what he was missing from his bed. 

“I love you too,” you professed as you adjusted his skewed tie while he waited for yesterday to fade so he could welcome in today. 

Hope. It holds the lifeline to a life we want to believe in.

Hope. And it sounds like your name.

--

Kaeya

The night comes unexpectedly. Each and every time he falls without knowing - perhaps it’s on purpose that goes until he forgets. Is it hard to face the truth Mr. Calvary Captain? He’s uncertain but there is one thing he knows. 

His dreams have come again. Those dreams that leave a bitter taste in his mouth until he finds something sweet to drown them out. His own twisted sense of curative measures that never last long. Licking his lips makes him grimace so he reaches for what clears his senses. 

A scared hand extends across silken sheets, searches, yearns for the warmth that should be there but finds only cold. In a flash his eyes open as if seeing will confirm that what holds him together hasn’t really left him, not yet, please not yet. What he see’s brings him no comfort; tense fingers gripping the nothingness that’s seeped in once again. He raises his head, moves to the other side of the bed. Traces, only traces are what’s left. 

Kaeya feels his heart plummet into his stomach. It stops, it all stops, and in the early morning a familiar feeling creeps back in. 

Once the abandoned child, always abandoned. 

Kaeya tears the sheets away from his legs, the cool air hits his skin: his chest, his thighs, his arms and back. He can feel the cold as much as he has command of it. A noise from behind him pulls his attention. The open window whistling as if to mock his nerves so he quickly moves to quiet it. 

His eyes adjust and start to see life where it should be. A bag dropped to the floor, contents spilling out as they often are. A jacket, a hat, it’s all where it should be but their owner is missing and he needs to see - needs to be where that heart beats. Needs to feel the gentle hand that cups his face, the one that takes his with them, the one that cares for him as much as he does them.

A noise from beyond the closed door reminds him there is still a chance so he makes his way there and hopes what lies beyond can chase away the thoughts creeping in. 

A kettle whistles, a voice floats down to meet him so when he reaches the end of the hall and sees the figure who should be at his side standing alone in the half-lit kitchen; he wonders why it’s still so hard to breathe. To ease the pain in his chest that was left by an empty side of the bed. 

When you turn to him, as if you knew he was there all alone, the face you show him is one of love and with open arms you welcome him home. 

“Morning. It’s still a bit early, did I wake you?” you say, unbeknownst to the turmoil he awoke too. You moved to the island counter, hand pressing onto the marble while the other extended to him. He swallowed. 

“And here I thought you were being loud on purpose,” he pushed through, attempting to hold onto the tease that kept him afloat all these years, “what, did you miss me?” 

“So what If I did. I’m allowed,” you played back and he was happy for it. 

He grabbed your lower back, pulling you to him as he breathed desperately, oh so desperately, across your lips, “show me how much.” 

“You first,” you hum. 

So he did. With a kiss that bent your back and brought you close to him, he showed you just how near he was to losing himself to the feeling. All his life he’s given in to the will of others but now he wishes to give it all to you; only you, as long as you are here and he can know the warmth that comes from your touch - even for a moment. 

Hope. It holds the lifeline to a life we want to believe in.

Hope. And it sounds like your name.

nepenthe :: a potion used by the ancients to induce forgetfulness of pain or sorrow 

[romaritimeharbor]

"the five sinners of khaenri'ah"

...

you know who those mfs look like lowkey?

LOOK 🗣❗️❗️❗️

[protect-namine]

more proof that the traveler does go by a fake name in their journey. we knew this already way back in "we will be reunited" but it's a good reminder. not even paimon knows the traveler's real name.

also wow, what an archon quest? if hoyo wasn't scared they would've made caribert's last act to be to let either traveler or abyss twin keep a memory of their encounter. but I suppose a picture will have to do...

caribert is such a genuinely good person. imagine going through all of that, being denied existence, and his ultimate goal was still to provide even an ounce of relief to others. just a truly genuinely good person

[tenebriism]

«... How much do you remember?» To invoke a dead nation's glorious past in broad daylight may not seem like the wisest approach. At first. In Kaeya's defense, this man had been the one to confront him with what had long haunted him. It was only fair that he helped to satiate his thirst for knowledge, for something... more. 

«Tell me a story... From back then». His voice is quiet as he eyes his drink, playing with the glass's rim. Not a shy request, but a cautious one.

[ surprise, here's one for Dain too! www ]

The Boughkeeper supposes it was... expected. Eventually, this one would begin to inquire as to his OWN identity and backstory, their fates and stories intertwined more than, mayhap, even Dainsleif understood. " My memories are... selective, " he begins, CAUTIOUS as he speaks to the man with matching irises. 'Tis not that he does not TRUST Kaeya; if anything, Kaeya should not trust HIM, with how secretive he's been, and how OFT he has kept, mayhap wrongfully, to the shadows.

" One, in particular, that remains ever constant in my mind... is the day Khaenri'ah fell. I remember where I was. What I was wearing... who I was with, how my hair was styled. I remember how the sweat burned as it trickled into my eyes... how raw my throat felt as I yelled out for citizens and compatriots alike... "

Is this what Kaeya is seeking? A REMINDER of their fallen nation and a tragic recount of it? Mayhap not, but it is one of FEW memories that Dainsleif has that he can vividly recall, and retell, with confidence. Another one, more pleasant, comes to mind... just before the fall, of a life long lost to tragedy and time. A life where he knew how it felt to be human, and not the husk of the man he once was.

" I had a home... " He begins, voice quieting even more, if such was possible. He's never been particularly loud spoken, but vulnerability has seized what little volume he normally manages, " ... one with a garden. Friends who would bring me seeds to plant. A kitten who would bat and bite at the leaves... a man who would warm my bed from time to time. He would weave the blossoms into the strands of my hair, and amidst sweet bliss, I would forget they were there... only to show up to training that very next day looking like a flower myself. The laughter that would ensue... it is quiet, distant, but I do... remember it. "

All of it, gone... all of THEM... g o n e. The alcohol clutched betwixt his own fingers won't do anything--- nay, he shan't be found stumbling over himself from a couple glasses of liquid poison, but oft does he wish it would. These knights are able to forget their own hardships, however briefly, with the very thing Dainsleif currently swirls around in the glass he clutches a tad too tightly--- but that, too, is merely something else that makes THIS ailing knight less human, and more a shell of his former self.

@frozenambiguity ;;

[queen-ofsunflowers]

Hear me out on this one.

Modern Genshin AU where the playable character and a few exceptions all live in the same apartment building.

Each nation gets a different floor. Dainsleif is the mysterious maintenance man who lives in the basement. Aether, Lumine and Paimon are the landlady's kids.

And shenanigans are to be had.

[mortaltravailed]

idk have some relationship FACTS, in no particular order:

despite all his confidence, kaeya is actually Not That Slick in the dating world bc he was raised to be a proper gentleman. he can be endlessly flirty if drunk enough, and has had a handful of one-time flings, but genuine attempts to Get to Know Him Better will end in him slinking away like #OopsILeftTheOvenOn. he hasn't the heart to do Actual Courtship bc he feels like he will accidentally trample on someone's genuine feelings.

jean is a BIG romantic at heart, and the type who only falls in love with her closest friends. she wants 2 believe in true love but she's also got a lot going on with the knights and her experiences with her own family have calmed her expectations a ton. still, she'd love some flowers and smooches. give them.

dainsleif exclusively participates in steamy hate sex and nothing else.

zhongli is charmed only by the very extraordinary, because he bores v easily. when he was many many years younger, his appetite for intimacy used to be near-insatiable. sometimes he wishes he were still that way, bc then at least he'd have something on a physical level. nowadays he's just sad AND sexless. his tastes are pretty unusual and he'd definitely go for someone completely different than him.

kazuha is strictly aro but he is down for the queerplatonic relationships. he loves his friends on a very deep level and i feel like he'd just be the best to just exist around. and to get drunk. god he's so funny.

childe flirts with anything that MOVES and is a complete monsterfucker. his feelings are usually genuine but he will Also be a complete menace for the rest of ur life.

kaveh is such a people pleaser that he gives THE BEST oral. it is law. it is written. he is also very Soft and longs for lifelong companionship. for richer or for poorer type of deal. (bc he's fucking broke) he loves wholeheartedly but he has the potential to get himself stuck in some messy feelings bc of it. looks at alhaitham. LOOKS AT ALHAITHAM.

ayato is not one to mince his words when he's disinterested/disgusted and can be quite the obnoxious heartbreaker. having said that, when he's interested he WILL wine n dine u and u WILL enjoy it (or else he'll have to wine n dine u HARDER next time and u will end up eating one of his weird concotions)

[teneboobism]

Jeeze, now y'all have me thinking about MR. BOUGH KEEPER'S preferences. It's complicated because he's very much NOT the same person he was back before Khaenri'ah fell, so a lot of his ' preferences ' are up in the air, in a state of LIMBO, like his pre-war personality.

He has had se//x more than once. Has never had a LOVER / PARTNER, per-se, but intimacy is not entirely foreign to him. Just . . . when you're cursed to wander Teyvat for the rest of your days, grasping at any sign of HOPE that not all has been LOST to a tragedy you failed to prevent, physical relations are the last thing on your mind.

H M M . . .

I'd say he's not picky, in regards to gender. Male, female, both, neither--- doesn't matter. Can't see him allowing himself to be VULNERABLE enough to bottom ( penetration wise, unless it's KAEYA - if he's being ridden, that's a different story ), but he's also not the type to take that initiative to TOP, either. A reluctant switch, mayhap, would be the best way to describe him.

Patience is key with him. Flirting goes straight over his head, and talking to him, most of the time, can feel like engaging with a brick wall. Give 'em time to slip back into a mindset of normality, and if he doesn't seem all that invested in reciprocating ( or, he abruptly changes his mind and backs out ), don't hold it against him.

. . . otherwise, he's well endowed and DOES know how to use the gifts bestowed upon him ( he's even got a bit of an aggressive side, if you're bratty enough with him ). Ya just gotta wait for the DLC package to download in 3 to 5 business years, and do his Companion Quest, and then, maybe then, you can get the trophy that says you successfully bedded Dainsleif.

[electric-ecclectic-a]

I’ve got the Khaenri’ah brainworms,,, plot with me pls

@Tim tam#6831 :’)

[dutybcrne]

Your Ideal Type

          ・⊱ “Ohoho, I think I encountered a beauty like that during my journey to Sumeru. Quite the lovely man, very knowledgeable of his field too, which made him all the more attractive to me. Although-”

         “Wh...?!”

         “Well, inaccuracies are to be expected in trivial games like this–”

[liroyalty]

Honestly, Ann would be a better fighter if she could remember any of the abilities she has. I believe the royals of Khaenri'ah would of had the same type of floaty ass Force-qeue magic you see Dainsleif using.

BUT OF COURSE, SHE DOESN'T REMEMBER THAT. So all she really got is her parasol.

[fragmented-tales]

Dainsleif Valorn

Name: Dainsleif Valorn

Age: 538

Race: Khaenri'ahn

Gender Identity: cisgender man (he/him)

Sexuality: biromantic demisexual

Detailed information coming soon.

[amourem]

tag dump pt 2.

[romaritimeharbor]

I CAN'T ESCAPE THE GENSHIN EN VAS

[protect-namine]

the traveler's official reasons for not trusting lyney are reasonable (he kept some crucial information from them while they acted as their attorney), but post-act i I'm gonna add an extra layer to that in my head and choose to believe that lyney's protectiveness over his siblings while they were all in meropide brings up sone uncomfortable feelings of envy and longing in the traveler, who is still not reunited with their own sibling.

which isn't really lyney's fault this time. it's something the traveler just has to deal with themselves

I just want traveler to accrue more complicated relationships with their friends. that would be neat